The Saga of Charlotte Harley
by LonelinessUnbroken
Summary: When Charlotte's boyfriend, Steve, invites her to go with him to the Cirque du Freak, she eagerly agrees... unaware that because of this fateful night she must choose to abandon her old life forever. Mr. Crepsley / OC
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. Charlotte Harley, however, is my own creation and belongs to me ^_^**

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Darkness.

Charlotte bit her lip, glancing nervously at her boyfriend and gripping his arm tightly. He leaned in close to her, and she grimaced as his overpowering cologne stung her nose.

"You agreed to come here with me," Steve whispered harshly into her ear. "We're here 'cause we _want_ to be scared, remember? Don't chicken out on me now." As he spoke, the lights slowly returned, faintly illuminating the old theatre in which they sat.

Charlotte loosened her grip on Steve's arm, silently scolding herself for allowing her boyfriend to see her frightened—even _if_ most of the other people in the audience with them were sharing the same feeling. Charlotte was hardly a chicken, on the contrary she had always been rather brave. Steve had always told her that was one of the traits he loved best about her, and so, in those rare moments when she felt scared, she made her best effort to hide her fear from him.

One of the previous acts was responsible for her terror. A snarling wolf man had been pushed around the room in a cage, and in the short period of time during which he had been released, he had bitten the hand off a woman in the audience. Mr. Tall, the man who appeared to be running the Cirque, had miraculously reattached the severed hand with a mysterious powder. After witnessing that, a terrified Charlotte felt as if she would believe anything.

"And now," boomed a voice on a loudspeaker, "Larten Crepsley and Madam Octa!"

Charlotte felt her fear slowly dissolve as her memory kicked into play, and she brushed a few stray black strands from her eyes. She remembered the pair from the Cirque du Freak flyer. _A man and his performing spider, _she smiled to herself. From a young age, Charlotte had always adored spiders— the bigger, the better. When they were twelve, Charlotte had shouted at Steve for deliberately stepping one of the "poor, innocent, eight-legged creatures who never gave you any reason to hurt them" while they were at school. _The day we met… The day we became the best of friends. _

The audience fell silent as a man holding a cage stepped onto the stage. Charlotte found herself staring in wonder from her second-row seat. The man had a rather unique appearance— he was tall and thin, with a pale complexion and a crop of bright orange hair on the top of his head. He had a long scar on the side of his face, extending upward from the corner of his mouth. The man was clothed fully in a blood-red suit.

_Bizarre, _thought Charlotte. In the seat to the right of her, she heard Steve gasp loudly, and she tore her eyes away from Larten Crepsley to look at her boyfriend. His expression was one of extreme shock, and Charlotte poked his arm curiously.

"Steve," she said softly, "are you okay? What's wrong?"

After a few moments Steve turned in his seat to face her. "I know him," he hissed, his eyes wide and unblinking.

"You know him?"

"Yeah— well, not personally, but…" He trailed off as Larten Crepsley cleared his throat from the stage and began to introduce the act.

Mr. Crepsley's voice was surprisingly deep, his intelligence obvious as he spoke. "Madam Octa is a particularly intriguing spider, as she is extremely deadly," he was saying. "Her venom first paralyses, and then kills the victim." Mr. Crepsley produced a small, silver flute, and unlatched the cage. Out of the metal cage stepped an enormous spider. Several people in the audience's jaws dropped at the sight of her.

Charlotte set her own jaw. The spider was huge, and the most beautiful she had ever seen. She tuned out almost completely, and spent several minutes gazing in awe at the magnificent creature.

The orange-haired man was now having Madam Octa perform tricks, and the gargantuan spider was dangling from the end of the silver flute he was using to control her.

_I must have that spider, _Charlotte realized. _She is the single most amazing creature I have ever seen. _She imagined herself playing tunes on the flute, having Madam Octa obediently dance for her and a delighted, laughing Steve. She smirked, wistful, but was jolted suddenly from her thoughts by a sharp pain in her right arm.

"WHA— Steve, ow!" Charlotte yelped, as Mr. Crepsley returned Madam Octa to her cage. Steve had unexpectedly dug his fingernails into her smooth, ivory skin. Every member of the audience turned to look her, and even Mr. Crepsley himself was staring at Charlotte in bewilderment. Charlotte's vibrant green eyes searched Steve's for a reason.

Steve fixed her with a smile. "I love you," he said, loud enough for the rest of the now quiet room to hear. Slowly, Steve leaned into her, and their lips met in a hesitant kiss. Charlotte felt her heart pounding in her chest, and she blushed furiously, feeling certain that everyone could hear it. Someone in the audience clapped, and not long after that, the whole room erupted in a thunderous applause. A few even whistled at the couple.

When Steve and Charlotte finally broke apart and the applause had died down, a startled Mr. Crepsley cleared his throat once again. "I offer my congratulations to the happy couple," he nodded in the direction of Charlotte and Steve, "and with that, my act has drawn to a close." He made a low bow, and took hold of Madam Octa's cage before exiting the stage in a calm and collected manner. The audience applauded once again, and many of the less squeamish cheered.

As the rest of the acts went on, Charlotte paid no attention. She was distracted, her mind dwelling on the kiss. Hours passed, and the show reached its conclusion. The show had been nothing short of spectacular, and though she had missed the majority of it, Charlotte had enjoyed Mr. Crepsley's and Madam Octa's act most of all she had seen. People began to rise from their seats and head for the exits.

"Steve, I think we should go n—" Charlotte started, but when she turned to look at her boyfriend, she was greeted by an empty seat.

* * *

Charlotte nearly stumbled as she heaved to open one of the theatre's entrance doors and quickly shuffled back inside, out of the chilly evening air. Steve's beat-up car had been in the parking lot, meaning he was still inside the theatre. _What the hell is he thinking, _thought Charlotte angrily, _leaving me alone here of all places? _She froze. She was forgetting something, she was sure. Something important.

_Madam Octa_. As the name crept in Charlotte's mind, slowly but surely a foolish idea formed. Unconsciously, she pushed finding Steve to the back of her list of priorities, and realized her legs were moving as if of their own accord— she was headed for the dressing rooms, and her mind was set. She hastily followed a different hallway, squinting in the dim light as she moved. She nearly became lost, opening several doors on her way, and finding herself more than once in an unfamiliar hallway.

Eventually she came to a stop in a long, narrow hallway lined with a number of name-plated doors on either wall. Charlotte's heartrate quickened, as she knew her destination was imminent. She ambled down the dark hall, steadily and at a slow enough pace so she was granted time to read each nameplate as she passed. _Truska, Cormac Limbs, Evra Von… _Charlotte merely allowed a quick glance at them— the names were meaningless to her, they were not the ones she was searching for.

At last, Charlotte reached the correct door. It loomed before her small frame, and she tilted her head upward to stare at the nameplate that now glared back at her.

Larten Crepsley and Madam Octa.

Charlotte held her breath. She reached a small, trembling hand to the doorknob… She heard something. She froze, slowly and silently leaning in and pressing her ear to the door.

"I know who you are," uttered Steve's harsh, muffled voice, "and _what_ you are."

Charlotte gaped in surprise at hearing her boyfriend's voice in Mr. Crepsley's dressing room. She strained her ears, listening…

"You're a vampire."

Charlotte's heart nearly stopped.


	2. Chapter 2

A vampire.

Charlotte's mouth hung open, and she found herself backing away from the door. _Vampire's don't exist. _She continued to move backward until she was pressed against the cold wall opposite Mr. Crepsley's door, and then she slid down to the floor and sat in shock. She hugged her knees close to her body, feeling sudden anger toward Steve. _Is this some kind of joke? Does he think this is funny? _

A few minutes passed. Charlotte brushed her ebony hair from her eyes, and slowly got to her feet. She sauntered forward, once again pressing her ear to the door.

"I want to be a vampire," Steve was saying.

"No," came Mr. Crepsley's stern reply. "This is not the kind of life that I wish for anyone."

"But…" Steve pried desperately, "I can be your… assistant. I can help you."

Mr. Crepsley hesitated, as if considering Steve's suggestion. "In becoming a vampire," he finally spoke, "you will have to leave your old life behind. You do not mean to tell me that you are willing to abandon everyone you love?"

"… I am."

Charlotte felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

"That girl," Mr. Crepsley said, softly now. "The one you kissed. It seemed that she means a lot to you."

Steve paused. "Charlotte," Steve's voice cracked, "means more to me than anyone I have ever met. But— But not… not enough to stop me from becoming a vampire."

"If you are certain, then I will test your blood. Step forward please, and give me your wrist."

Charlotte's mind was blank, her emerald eyes staring hopelessly forward. She extended her hand, pressing her pale fingertips to the cold door. She tried to swallow, but for her suddenly dry mouth, it was a painfully difficult task. Steve wanted a different life, and the life he wanted was not one she was a part of. He would rather be an isolated, heartless blood-sucker than be with her. Did she really mean so little to him?

A peculiar sound was audible, a sound like a cat lapping milk. Violent coughing and sputtering followed not long after, and Mr. Crepsley cried out in disgust.

"You have bad blood!" He spat, resigning himself to another coughing fit.

"What do you mean?"

"You are evil!" hissed the vampire angrily, "you will never become a vampire!"

"But—no! I'm not evil! Y-you're wrong! Please!" Steve whimpered, though he sensed it would get him nowhere. "I need you to turn me."

"Never. Vampires are not evil, we take only what we need and nothing more. We mean no harm, I assure you, it is not our way. I cannot turn you."

After a few moments of hesitation, Steve's voice flared in anger. "You'll regret this! I'll become a vampire hunter, and one day I'll track you down… I'll kill you, Larten Crepsley, I promise you that!"

Charlotte's heart skipped a beat as she heard Steve dash toward the door. Instinctively, she backed away, moving further left down the narrow hallway until she was hidden in the shadows. Steve burst through the door, tripping over his own feet in the process. He grunted as his frame connected with the cool floor. Quickly, Steve jumped to his feet and sprinted off in the direction Charlotte had come, and she watched him with wide, unblinking eyes as he was swallowed up by the darkness. A soft, almost inaudible gasp inevitably escaped Charlotte's lips, and in realizing her mistake, she clapped her hand to her mouth— only to make more noise in the process.

In less than a second Mr. Crepsley was in front of her, seizing her wrist and yanking her into the room. Charlotte shrieked in terror, her back to the vampire as she was shoved inside. Her piercing scream was cut short by Mr. Crepsley's hand clamping over her mouth.

"Quiet," he hissed, his chilled lips touching her ear. "Do you understand?"

Charlotte tried as best she could to nod, though she accomplished scarcely more than a twitch of her head with his strong grip stifling her movement.

"I will release my hold on you," whispered the vampire softly, "and you will not run."

"Mmm…M-hmm," Charlotte managed, her small body trembling uncontrollably. Slowly, Mr. Crepsley removed his hands from her mouth and wrist. Charlotte hesitated, trying to regain her composure before turning to face the vampire. Putting on her best brave face, she bit her lip as she raised her eyes to stare into his. Neither of them spoke for several moments.

Mr. Crepsley finally broke the silence. "I mean you no harm… Charlotte."

Charlotte blinked back at him, her fear beginning to dissipate under his sincere gaze. Her eyebrows knitted together as her original purpose in finding the vampire's room returned to the frontmost part of her mind.

Mr. Crepsley caught the determination in her stare. He raised an eyebrow. "There is another reason why you are here, is there not? Make your intentions known, girl."

Charlotte shifted her gaze to the ground and then back up at him. "You have something I want," she replied. A tiny smile found its way to her lips.

"Yes? Just what might that be, girl?"

"Your spider," Charlotte cocked her head to the side. "Madam Octa."

"Whatever would a teenage girl want with my spider? I was under the impression that most young ladies would scream merely at the sight of—"

"I am not most young ladies," Charlotte interrupted, the venom evident in her smooth voice. "I will do anything for that spider."

Mr. Crepsley allowed himself a few moments to take in what she had just said. "Anything?" he replied curiously.

"Anything. I _need_ her."

"If you are so certain, then perhaps…" the vampire paused carefully. "Something can be arranged."

"What can be arranged?" Charlotte bit down on the inside of her lip, tasting blood.

Mr. Crepsley was not going to give her a direct answer. "Your boyfriend did not have an entirely misguided idea in the request he proposed to me…"

Charlotte tasted bile at the mention of Steve, and her lips parted in a silent "o" as her brain registered the rest of the sentence.

"You want me…" she choked, "to be your assistant." She clenched her small fists.

"Yes."

"Get… Get someone else!" Charlotte shouted angrily.

"I am afraid I do not want anyone else," Mr. Crepsley took a step closer to her. "There is something… different… about you, something I have never seen in anyone else before this night."

Charlotte attempted to back away from him, but her shoes caught on each other and she faltered. Mr. Crepsley's hand shot out and grasped her wrist tightly, preventing her fall. When she regained her footing, he dropped his arm back to his side.

"What do you see in me? What's so special about me?"

The vampire did not answer. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at Madam Octa's cage, which sat atop a coffee table.

Only then did Charlotte notice the coffin that rested nearby. She cringed.

Mr. Crepsley moved swiftly toward the table, leaning down and gently lifting the spider's cage by the handle. He returned to Charlotte, holding the cage out before her. "She is yours," he said quietly.

"Wait… What? Why?" Charlotte's mind was whirling. Her eyes fell upon Madam Octa, who blinked back at her from inside the cage with several minuscule eyes. Charlotte felt the tug of desire on her heart, and her hand darted forward to take the cage from Mr. Crepsley's grasp.

Mr. Crepsley leaned in close to her. "Because," he replied, "I know you will be back."

"I'm sorry," Charlotte set her jaw, her voice cold. "But I don't think I will." She took a few steps backward, and then sprinted out of the open door without a second glance.

The vampire watched her leave, making no move to stop her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Shit," Charlotte grimaced, fumbling to detach the silver flute from Madam Octa's cage. It had been difficult enough to last through the school day with the knowledge that she had a beautiful and amazingly creepy performing spider waiting for her at home; she didn't want to wait even a second longer. She felt as if the anticipation would burn a hole in her skull.

It was 6 P.M. Her room was quiet, which was not unusual in her house—her parents were rarely home. The thought of them finding the spider caused Charlotte not even an ounce of distress, as she doubted it would ever happen. When the knot in the thick string finally came undone, she grinned triumphantly and brandished the flute above her head.

"Ha!" Charlotte laughed proudly, feeling like a child. She was struggling to avoid thoughts of the previous night; if she had to act immature to accomplish that task then so be it. She started to bring the flute to her lips but stopped, the shiny metal just inches away from her mouth. She shivered. _I should probably wash this first, _she thought, biting her lip. She didn't need to imagine where the lips of the previous owner had undoubtedly been countless times before. _On human flesh, feeding on the blood of an innocent. _She stood, sidestepping several articles of her own clothing—which were carelessly strewn across the floor—as she made her way into the hallway and to the bathroom.

Charlotte ran the miniature flute under warm water in the bathroom sink, drying it gently with a soft towel. She returned to her messy room, sat cross-legged on the mahogany hardwood floor, and brought the now clean flute to her lips a second time.

Madam Octa blinked up at her from her cage in front of Charlotte as she blew a few test notes. The spider remained still, even as Charlotte somewhat successfully played a couple of random tunes.

_Okay, _Charlotte thought silently to herself as she blew, _now how do I get you to move? _The arachnid watched her questioningly, as if awaiting some sort of instruction… _Move. _Charlotte's eyes widened as the spider lifted one of her hairy legs in response and dropped it down again. _Incredible, _Charlotte thought, awestruck. Although she had witnessed Mr. Crepsley control Madam Octa at the Cirque, it certainly felt more remarkable to be doing it herself.

A familiar noise abruptly sounded from the ground floor of Charlotte's house. She leapt to her feet, shoving the flute into the back pocket of her navy jeans as she strained her ears to listen. It didn't take her long to recognize the sound as someone knocking on the glass of the sliding door at the back of her house, which was connected to her backyard. Adrenaline began to rush through her veins as she anticipated the worst—the vampire was back for her. He was going to kill her and retrieve the spider that was rightfully his.

_Oh shit, shit, shit! _Charlotte panicked. She scanned her large bedroom for something, anything, to use as a weapon. Realizing she didn't have the time to rifle through her disorderly room to find an object that may be useful for attack, she instead tiptoed over to her open door and slipped into the crevice where the door was nearly touching the wall. She swallowed hard as she listened to the sliding door—which she had so carelessly left unlocked for god knows how long—be pulled open by the trespasser. Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut for a few brief moments as footsteps sounded inside her house, and grew louder as they neared the wooden stairs.

_I'm going to die, _Charlotte realized with surprising calmness. _There's no way in hell that I can take on a vampire. _

The stairs creaked softly under the weight of the intruder as he hastened up the stairwell. He reached the top, and pressed forward in the direction of her bedroom.

Charlotte clenched her fists and jaw, poised to strike. She may have been no match for a creature of the night, but she wasn't about to go down without a fight. Without daring a glance through the crack in the door where it was hinged to her violet wall as the intruder entered the room, she shoved the door away from her and pounced from her hiding place on an unsuspecting Steve Leonard. Steve let out a cry of surprise as the two of them tumbled to the ground.

"Steve!" Charlotte gasped breathlessly, feeling both furious and relieved. The young man lay beneath her on his back, her petite hands on either side of his head.

"What the hell…" Steve began, catching his breath. He shoved her off of him and sat up. "What's wrong with you? Why'd you attack me like that?"

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, her anger building as he spoke. "You're a bastard, Steve Leonard."

"What did I do?"

"You kissed me," Charlotte said quietly, "and then you left me alone, like it never happened. Tell me, because I used to think I knew but now I'm not so sure… How much do I actually mean to you, Steve?"

"I could never live without you," he replied. _Liar._

Charlotte watched him gloomily as his eyes finally caught on Madam Octa's cage, which rested on the floor near her bed a few feet away from them. He seemed to take a few moments to register what he was seeing, but when he did, his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. He glanced from Charlotte to the spider, and back to Charlotte again.

"That's Mr. Crepsley's spider," he said eventually.

"It is."

Silence.

"Did you steal her from him?"

Charlotte did not reply, but instead fingered the hem of her skinny jeans at the pant leg.

Steve's eyes flashed and for a second Charlotte almost expected him to strike her. "I think you know more than you're telling me."

Charlotte licked her lips from her seat on the floor and folded her arms over her chest, avoiding his stare. She wouldn't speak; she refused to say a word.

Steve pried for answers several more times but to no avail. "Fine," he sighed at last. "If you don't want to talk about it, then we won't talk about it." He gestured to Madam Octa. "So, umm… do you have the flute that controls the spider?"

She nodded bleakly.

Steve forced a smile. "Then what do you say we try it? Let the thing out." He scooted closer to Madam Octa's cage.

"Are you kidding? I'm not going to—"

"Just do it!" Steve pleaded. "Come on!"

Charlotte glared at him. "Fine!" She pulled the silver flute from her back pocket, unlatched the spider's cage, and left it ajar. Bringing the flute to her lips, she expertly performed an erratic but satisfactory tune. She directed her thoughts to the arachnid. _Step out of your cage._

Madam Octa obeyed.

_Now, be still._

Steve's face lit up animatedly. Not wanting to break Charlotte's concentration, he silently gestured from the spider to himself with an excited grin.

Charlotte eyed daggers at Steve before nodding and proceeding with another tune. _Crawl onto him. _

Once again the spider followed her new master's commands, moving unhurriedly forward in the direction of the teenage boy. Madam Octa latched herself to his washed-out jeans when she reached him. Fear flashed over Steve's face at the contact, but dissolved quickly at Charlotte's raised eyebrow.

The spider took her time but eventually reached Steve's neck; he smiled as her hairy legs tickled his skin. Charlotte found herself becoming distracted, hastening her notes upon seeing his enjoyment. Fury and a newfound hatred forced their way into her heart as she looked upon the face of the boy she used to think loved her…

Steve's face contorted suddenly in confusion and terror, and Charlotte realized she was no longer playing. As if by some unseen force that was not her own will, her grip on the flute loosened and the small instrument clattered to the floor. Her eyes widened in shock as her brain registered what had just happened, and her hands darted to retrieve the flute—but it was too late; the connection had been severed.

Madam Octa sunk her poison-tipped fangs into the exposed flesh of Steve's neck.


	4. Chapter 4

Lying had not been easy.

The chilling air of the late evening stung Charlotte's bare arms, but she didn't care. Tears streamed down her guilt-ridden face, and she pounded her fists hopelessly on the front doors of the now empty theatre. The Cirque had undoubtedly moved on to another city. _The vampire's not here, _she thought dejectedly, finally ceasing her useless pounding on the doors and sinking to the pavement._ He can't help me._

Steve was in a coma, dying, and regardless of her new hatred for him Charlotte did not want to be responsible for his death. She sighed, wiping the wetness from her reddened eyes, and reached a chilled palm to pull the dreaded spider's cage closer to her from where she had set it on the pavement. The shamefaced girl was painfully aware that her regrets would not save the dying boy, and knew that she should loathe the beast who bit him like any other person would in her situation—yet she didn't, she loved the spider just as she had before, and that only made her feel more guilt.

Charlotte felt that Madam Octa was not to blame; she had known the creature was dangerous when she agreed to Steve's pleas to free her from the cage. Of course, Steve had known the risks as well. _He's a fool, _Charlotte frowned, clenching her teeth. _I won't hold him accountable. _If anyone was at fault, it was she. She hugged her knees tightly and buried her face in them, surrendering herself to a sobbing fit. A tall shadow fell over her as she did so, but she paid no attention.

"Crying will do you no good, I am afraid," a deep voice spoke.

Charlotte froze, abruptly cutting her pathetic cries short as her bright eyes shot open. Slowly and soundlessly, she lifted her head from her knees and craned her neck to look at the speaker, though she knew exactly who had addressed her from the moment she heard his voice. "Mr. Crepsley," she gasped, the ends of her mouth curling into a smile with the renewal of her hope.

The vampire said nothing, but instead extended his hand down toward her. She took it gladly, and he helped her to her feet. The girl shocked him by throwing herself into his arms, and burying her face in his chest. Bemused, he regarded the small girl and cleared his throat. Her frame went suddenly rigid against him, as if she just realized what she was doing.

Charlotte broke apart from him quickly and took a step back, staring at the ground in embarrassment. "Oh, uh," she said quietly, "sorry." She dusted off her formfitting red t-shirt awkwardly.

"Think nothing of it," Mr. Crepsley replied calmly.

Neither of them spoke for several moments. It was late and the roads were empty, the only lighting shining down from overhead street lamps.

"Oh!" Charlotte exclaimed loudly and without warning. The sound sliced through the silent night like a blade. "Steve…" Worry once again etched itself across the poor girl's face. "He's… dying."

Mr. Crepsley nodded, unsurprised. "I knew you would be back, one way or another. That is why I waited. Madam Octa poisoned the boy, I presume?"

"Yes…"

"Of course," he sighed, stroking his scar thoughtfully. "You need me to give you the antidote to save your boyfriend—" Charlotte cringed at the word "—and that is why you returned to this theatre, is it not?"

The young woman nodded.

"What did you do? After what happened to the boy?"

Charlotte considered this for a minute. "Well," she sputtered, "I hid Madam Octa. I ran to my neighbour's and I… I had to do a lot of lying. I said that Steve and I were just talking in my bedroom, and I noticed this huge tarantula—which must have crawled in through my open window, I lied—on Steve's shoulder, we both screamed, and the spider bit his neck…" She paused.

"Go on," he urged her.

"My neighbour phoned emergency for me when I told them he was unconscious," Charlotte continued. "I went with them to the hospital… He's checked in there now. Steve's mom came, and she was crying… I called my parents and they dragged themselves home from work, and we all stayed there for a while before I snuck back to my house on my own to get Madam Octa. Then I ran here to find you…" She trailed off.

"You do not seem in any hurry," remarked the vampire, "to revive him. He does not have long to live."

Hanging her head, Charlotte hugged her arms to her chest, biting her lip as she so often did. "Dying or not," she replied honestly, her voice cracking, "I am not so important to him. That still hurts, every time I think about it." She looked away. When Mr. Crepsley said nothing, she continued, "I still can't let him die. I need you to help me… Please."

Mr. Crepsley ran pale, slender fingers through his orange hair. "I will give you the antidote," he spoke after a few seconds of hesitation, "but in return…"

"You don't need to finish that sentence," Charlotte uttered with a sudden fierceness in her voice, "I deserve everything I'm going to get. I'll do whatever it takes, but I'll hate every second of it. That's a promise, _vampire." _Her green eyes narrowed at him.

The vampire grinned. "Then you shall be my new assistant, Charlotte…"

"Harley," Charlotte put in nervously. "My name is Charlotte Harley."

"Charlotte Harley," he nodded. "Former introductions must wait, I am afraid. A boy is dying, and only we have it in our power to save him. I will blood you after we have seen to his recovery." He turned away from her at this, his back facing the girl. "Climb onto my back."

Raising her eyebrows in sheer bafflement, the girl gaped at him. "_Climb onto your back?" _she repeated slowly, positive that she must have misheard.

Sighing in frustration, Mr. Crepsley looked over his shoulder to frown at her and explained, "I am going to flit to the hospital. As a full vampire I am able to move at an extremely fast rate if I so please, and this means of travel is known to vampires as _flitting_. If you wish to arrive at the hospital as quickly as possible, then I suggest you climb onto my back as I said before."

Pausing, Charlotte shuffled her feet. "Okay," the girl breathed, stepping closer to the vampire as he bent down to ease the task for her. She nervously wrapped her small arms around his neck, feeling uneasy, and secured her legs to the sides of his red suit. When he stood, she allowed herself to relax, her position now feeling more natural and less uncomfortable. "I'm ready," she mumbled, shutting her eyes tightly.

With that, the vampire began to run in the direction of the hospital.

After a few seconds' travel, Charlotte dared to open her eyes, lifting her head from where it lay against Mr. Crepsley's shoulder. Her jaw dropped in awe as she regarded their surroundings—they were moving at such an alarming speed that it looked as if the world itself was racing by on its own and that they were barely moving at all. The experience was truly bizarre, and her interest sparked as she watched. The vampire had told her only full vampires had the ability to flit as he was doing now, and she was knew that he would merely blood her to be a half-vampire for the time being. _Maybe one day, though, _Charlotte surprised herself by thinking,_ I'll be able to do this too… _

She rested her head back on the vampire's shoulder, consumed by her silent musings.


	5. Chapter 5

**Just wanted to give a huge thanks to my readers, your reviews are EXTREMELY appreciated and give me a lot of motivation to keep writing this fic. More are welcome, of course! ^_^**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Darren Shan Saga nor any of its characters. The only character I own is Charlotte Harley.**

* * *

"We have arrived," Mr. Crepsley announced softly, jolting Charlotte from her thoughts. He bent down on one knee, permitting the small girl to slide off of his back as she removed her slender arms from around his neck. The pair stood before the hospital, which loomed forebodingly above them against the night sky. The vampire shuffled coolly toward the wall closest to them, and pressed his fingertips against it.

Charlotte watched him curiously. "What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled. She warily edged closer and stood by his side as he craned his neck to examine the full height of the building.

The vampire did not immediately answer, giving the building another quick once-over before turning his head to look at her. "It will not be permitted for us to enter Steve's room at this time; visiting hours have long-since passed. We shall scale this building." He bent down on one knee and removed his shoes, straightening after he did so.

Charlotte glanced down at her own feet. "Do I have to…?" she started, pointing at her black Converse shoes.

Mr. Crepsley's face took on an amused look, and for a brief moment he actually looked as if he was about to laugh. In no time at all, the look disappeared and was replaced by his usual authoritative expression. "A human will not be able to climb this building!" he replied sternly, the corners of his mouth twitching in an attempt to hold back a smile. He moved closer to her, close enough that Charlotte had to tilt her head back considerably to look him in the eyes—she was much smaller than he.

Charlotte's eyes narrowed at him, but she was grinning. "Hurry up and let me climb on then," she said, crossing her arms.

Mr. Crepsley bent again, and Charlotte once again clambered onto the vampire's back.

Glancing back at her, the vampire frowned, "You know the boy's room number, do you not?"

Nodding, Charlotte relayed the number to him. The vampire acknowledged her response and glanced upward to count the windows before carrying with him to the nearest wall of the building. He then dug his nails—which were fairly long, Charlotte noted—into the hard concrete. Expertly, he began to ascend, digging the nails of his hands of feet alternately into the wall and lifting himself as he did so.

Charlotte realized that she was still smiling, and in remembering what the two of them were there to do, wiped the smirk off her face. _Steve is dying because of you, _Charlotte reminded herself, _smiling is the last thing you should be doing right now. _

They reached Steve's window, and Mr. Crepsley stopped just under it. He made sure he had a firm hold on the wall, and when he was certain of their security, extended his hand and effortlessly opened the window.

"It will make most sense for you to enter first," Mr. Crepsley said calmly.

Charlotte gulped, anxiously glancing down at the high fall, but did as she was told. She took her right arm from around the vampire's neck and struggled to grip the small windowsill with her hand, and then she lifted her leg as well to get a foothold on the windowsill before heaving her weight inside. The vampire followed soundlessly behind her, and Charlotte felt a tiny, brief pang of embarrassment at not being able to enter with as much ease as he had. It was a stupid reason to be embarrassed, after all, she was normal, and he was the vampire circus freak. Putting her foolishness behind her she instead set her eyes on her boyfriend, who lay motionless in a white hospital bed a few feet before them. Biting her lip she walked slowly to his bedside and bent over him. "Okay," she said, her voice taking on a sudden ferocity, "we're here now. So help him, like you said you would."

Mr. Crepsley looked at her for a long moment, as if he reconsidering their deal. He shifted his gaze to Steve, and reached into the pocket of his red suit. He pulled out a small vial filled with a liquid. "The antidote," he announced, hesitantly joining her at the bedside. He unscrewed the cap, and motioned for Charlotte's help.

Obediently, Charlotte used her small fingers to grip Steve's chin, tilt his head slightly back, and open his mouth. Mr. Crepsley emptied the vial inside. Charlotte closed his mouth and waited.

"He will most likely not awaken immediately," said Mr. Crepsley, "so it is best that we leave and make use of this time by finding a place where I may blood y—"

"No," Charlotte interrupted, her expression void of emotion and her eyes still trained on Steve, "I need to make sure that it works."

Mr. Crepsley considered this. "Do you suggest that I may be lying to you?"

"You can't expect me to trust you so soon. I just want to see it for myself, okay?"

Steve stirred in his bed, causing Charlotte to jump. His eyes fluttered open.

"Ch…Charlotte?" Steve struggled, his voice hoarse as his eyes settled on her. "Wh…" He stopped speaking abruptly as his gaze landed on Mr. Crepsley, who stood beside her. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It is best that we leave now," Mr. Crepsley said hurriedly. In a swift motion, he grasped Charlotte's wrist, turned away from her, and threw the girl onto his back. She yelped in surprise and nearly fell off, but her arms shot out at the last moment to save her from falling and wrapped securely around his neck. The vampire bolted for the window and swiftly clambered out and down, knowing that dwelling within Steve's hospital room would only complicate matters further. He slowed when they reached the base of the building and put on his shoes which he had left there. Without saying another word to Charlotte, he turned his back on the hospital and began to flit in the direction they had come.

This time Charlotte kept her eyes open, relishing the few minutes she had to admire the world flashing by before her eyes as they moved. Surprisingly, for once she actually felt at peace; not a single worry troubled her.

Mr. Crepsley slowed at the entrance of the abandoned theatre from which they had come, the same theatre where he had performed with the Cirque du Freak. He didn't need to tell the girl to get down, rather, she slipped off of his back on her own. The vampire strode toward the double-doors and had no difficulty throwing them open, and he ushered her inside before him.

"Gentleman," Charlotte snickered as she entered, which earned her a look of annoyance from Mr. Crepsley. She ignored him, instead continuing to walk toward his dressing room while making an effort to conceal her own tension. She knew what was soon to happen. She was about to hold up her end of the deal—-the vampire planned to blood her, and on this night she would become his assistant and be forever in his service.

_These will be my last few moments of life as a normal human girl, _Charlotte realized.

* * *

Steve sat up stiffly in the hospital bed, rubbing the bite on his neck. He stared unblinkingly at the pallid wall ahead of him, but was so consumed by his own thoughts that he didn't truly see it.

_Charlotte, _he mused._ She was here. _Why shouldn't she be? She was his girlfriend, after all. _But she wasn't alone, _he reminded himself, clenching his fists as the words formed in his head. _The vampire was with her. _

It did not take Steve long to piece together what happened. The vampire could have only been in his room for one reason—Charlotte had known he was the only one who could ensure Steve's recovery, and so she had gone to him for help and he had obliged.

_But why? What reason could he have had to help her? _He mulled the question over in his head. _Unless, _it slowly dawned on him, _they arranged some kind of bargain… _Steve's knuckles whitened as he felt the fury begin to bubble under his skin.


	6. Chapter 6

**THANK YOU REVIEWERS :3 **

**I love reading reviews-they seriously make my day. So please, readers, keep writing them and I'll keep updating!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Saga of Darren Shan / Cirque du Freak or any of its characters. Charlotte Harley, however, belongs to me.**

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"Give me your wrist."

"Okay," Charlotte obeyed, extending her arm to the vampire in front of her. She suppressed a wince as he used the long, sharp nail of his index finger to slice a small cut in her wrist. Blood slowly surfaced soon after, its scarlet hue brightly contrasting her pale skin.

Mr. Crepsley brought her wrist to his lips. "I will test your blood," he declared. He covered the bloodied cut with his mouth and began to gently suck.

Shivering, Charlotte closed her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she imagined a scenario in which her blood turned out to be the bad blood of someone evil, just as Steve's had. What would the vampire do with her then? She held her breath, anticipating the worst.

"You have good blood," Mr. Crepsley announced, severing the suction between his lips and her skin. The girl watched in bewilderment as he allowed some saliva to drip from his mouth onto the small wound, the laceration healing completely upon the contact. "The saliva of a full vampire possesses healing properties," he explained as she withdrew her wrist from him.

Charlotte gaped in amazement at her wrist—where the wound had been, there was now only a minuscule, almost invisible scar. "That's…" she began, her face glowing, "pretty cool."

"Yes, yes," Mr. Crepsley waved a hand at her dismissively. "I will need both of your hands now, please. I will proceed with the blooding." He grasped her outstretched hands, very small in his own, and turned them over so her palms faced upward. Using all of his fingernails this time, he pressed them into the flesh of her fingertips.

Charlotte clenched her jaw, grimacing briefly at the short moment of pain.

The orange-haired vampire released her hands, and used the nails of one of his hands to pierce his own fingertips. He repeated the same process with his other hand.

"What are you doing?" Charlotte frowned in confusion. "I thought you were supposed to, I don't know…"

"Bite your neck?" Mr. Crepsley finished, smirking at her ignorance. "No, vampires do no such thing. It is far too… messy."

"Ah."

The vampire shook his head, wiping the smile off of his face to focus on their task. "This will hurt," he warned. He took Charlotte's hands again and pressed his bleeding fingertips to hers.

At first, Charlotte felt only a faint twinge of pain and a rush of heat as his blood entered her veins and her own blood flowed into his. Soon, though, the pain grew until it became so unbearable that Charlotte clamped her eyes shut. She sunk her teeth into the inside of her lip to stop herself from crying out, tasting the saltiness on her tongue. Feeling as if she was being burned from the inside out, her heart raced so incredibly fast that she could not separate one beat from another. Fighting every urge to rip her fingers away from his and put an end to the agony, she cranked one eye open to see that Mr. Crepsley was by no means having any better an experience than she was.

After what seemed like an eternity of suffering, Mr. Crepsley finally pulled away from Charlotte and she collapsed on the floor, shaking violently. They both spent a minute recovering from the literally blood-curdling experience, trying to collect themselves and catch their breath.

Charlotte sat on her knees on the cold floor, reaching a now clammy and shaking hand to wipe her watering eyes and running mascara.

Mr. Crepsley bent down beside her, having by now mostly regained himself. He gently grasped again for her hands, but she pulled away.

"N… No more," Charlotte pleaded, blinking up at him with reddened eyes.

The vampire sighed, giving the girl a sympathetic look. "I did not enjoy it any more than you did. Do not worry, girl; it is finished. I mean only to seal your wounds." He raised his fingers to his lips, licked them, and they sealed, leaving behind small trace scars on each fingertip.

Charlotte regarded him wearily before giving him her hands. Mr. Crepsley clutched her wrists in his firm but gentle grip. Charlotte felt a chill shoot up her spine as Mr. Crepsley ran his rough tongue over her fingertips.

"There," the vampire told her, directing her gaze to the faint scars that remained, "are the scars that identify you as a vampire, whether half or full. We all have them."

"Right," Charlotte nodded. "So… I'm a half-vampire now? Why don't I feel any different?"

"Changes are generally not experienced immediately after a blooding has taken place. It will likely take some hours, a day, or perhaps longer, before you notice any difference. Come." He led her to the door and opened it, gesturing for her to step through and into the hallway.

Obliging, Charlotte asked, "What are we going to do now?" The blooding behind her now, she wondered what lay ahead of her in the near future, once again surprised by her odd sense of calm in regards to the madness that had unfolded itself in her life just one night earlier. There was no going back, and she knew it very well.

Mr. Crepsley silently closed the door behind them. In a brisk walk he headed in the direction of the theatre's exit, glancing over his shoulder at Charlotte, who had broken into a jog in order to keep up with him.

"_We are going to kill you,"_ he replied, fixing her with his most wicked smile.

Stunned, Charlotte held her tongue and followed him outside and into the biting night air.

* * *

At her front door, Charlotte fumbled in the pockets of her jeans, producing her house key. With her chilled and numb fingers she shoved the key into the lock and turned it, hearing the click as it unlocked and allowed her entry. She squeezed the icy door handle in her grasp, which had been made considerably weaker by the biting temperature, and rammed her knee hard into the door a few times before it swung open.

Feeling truly exhausted, she used her last ounce of energy to thunder up her staircase, burst into her bedroom, and jump into her warm and welcoming bed. She squeezed her tired eyes shut and buried her face in her pillow, releasing a sigh of sheer bliss.

Mr. Crepsley had followed close behind her, but unlike Charlotte he took his time and walked at a regular pace up the stairs and into her room. Once inside, he shuffled forward at stood by her bed, looking down at her with annoyance. "It is best that we proceed with your 'death' immediately," he pressed, reaching down to poke her shoulder roughly. "By the way, your bedroom is a disaster area."

The girl groaned, the sound muffled by the pillow. She lifted her head angrily and jolted it in his direction, her matted raven hair whipping around her heart-shaped face in a frenzy as she did so. She fixed him with a glare.

"It cannot wait until tomorrow," Mr. Crepsley persisted, answering her unspoken request. "Get up. There will be more than enough time for sleeping after we have seen to it that no one will ever come looking for you."

Grudgingly, Charlotte scrambled off her bed and straightened, awaiting his next instruction.

"Move over to the window and open it. Remove the screen as well," he commanded.

Charlotte did as she was told, adhering to the strange order and maneuvering through her embarrassingly untidy bedroom. After a brief struggle she managed to yank the window open, shivering as the cold forced its way in and rushed to attack every patch of her exposed skin. She detached the screen.

"Drink this," said Mr. Crepsley in a low voice near her ear, causing Charlotte to jump.

_How the hell does he move so damn fast? _Charlotte couldn't prevent herself from thinking. She took the vial he was holding out to her and regarded it with uncertainty. "What is it?"

"It will paralyze you," the vampire replied calmly, "and slow your heart rate so significantly that you will in all aspects appear dead."

Charlotte scowled. "Magical," she frowned. A new thought occurred to her then. "Wait… You're going to push me out the window?"

"Yes, I am. I plan to break your neck and throw you out the window; therefore it will appear that you have fallen to your death. You will most likely survive."

"Most likely?"

"Just drink it and shut up."

Glowering, Charlotte stared uneasily at the vial for a few more seconds, considering the most undesirable outcomes of this mindless stunt. She would just have to trust him.

With a few quick, uneven gulps, she downed the repulsive liquid until there was not a drop remaining.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you all so much! Most reviews so far that this fic has received at once, I'm glad to say! Believe me, every single one you guys write makes a big difference to me and to this fic. ^_^ Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Darren Shan Saga / Cirque du Freak nor any of its characters. Charlotte Harley, however, is my creation and belongs to me.**

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For a few short seconds Charlotte did not notice any difference, but she soon began to feel the full effects of the strange drug. Dancing first within her fingertips, sharp tingles rapidly started to crawl up and down her body as they inevitably spread. A numbing sensation soon followed, overpowering the needlelike prickling beneath her flesh.

A waiting Mr. Crepsley stood just behind her, his hand shooting out to snatch the empty vial from her quickly loosening grip. It would not do to have it shatter all over the hardwood floor. He returned the vial to his waistcoat pocket, his eyes never leaving the small frame before him. The vampire knew his aid would soon be necessary.

He rested his hands on his new assistant's shoulders, feeling her frame go rigid as her body surrendered itself to the potion. He held there briefly before shifting his grip to the nape of her neck. Under his fingers he felt the warmth of Charlotte's skin start to dissipate, her already pale complexion battling the ghostly pallor it was taking on, and he jabbed his fingers roughly into her flesh to get a feel for the bone.

Had she been able, Charlotte would have flinched at the sickening crack that sounded as the vampire broke her neck. Her numb body now felt like a shell, and she cowered inside of it as it shielded her from the pain of the fracture. Much to her distress, her heart had seemingly stopped dead in her chest, and she had to remind herself that it had not ceased completely. It was still beating, but the gaps between each thump would be much longer now. The masking of her vital signs was critical, she knew very well, to passing herself off as a corpse.

Mr. Crepsley pushed her forward, wasting no time being gentle with her unfeeling form. In front of the open window the two stood, and Mr. Crepsley examined it carefully before daring to proceed.

It was a fairly tall window, stretching from a couple of feet off the floor to nearly the ceiling. It would not be unbelievable that Charlotte had simply lost her footing and tripped forward, crashing into the screen and taking it with her as she fell out of the open window and to her death.

Satisfied, with a violent shove Mr. Crepsley sent the paralyzed girl tumbling helplessly out of the house. He took care not to push her too far out, so as not to give evidence of her being pushed.

Charlotte wanted to scream as she plummeted through the air, the world around her transforming into a foreboding mass of colors. She was no longer aware of which direction was up. Instinct begged her to wave her arms frantically around herself in an attempt to catch her fall—but, of course, she couldn't do that, and so her limbs were instead whipped limply around her body like a rag doll's. She heard an awful thud as her frame collided with the ground, and realized that she had thankfully landed on her back. Another slight thud sounded a little to her right, and out of the corner of her eye Charlotte could see that Mr. Crepsley had thrown the window screen out after her. All she had left to do now was wait, and with dry, unblinking eyes gaze at the star-speckled navy sky.

Mr. Crepsley peered down at Charlotte, leaning out of the loathsome window and gripping its side frame. He cast his gaze to the sidewalks, houses, and every place else in his assistant's neighborhood where there could possibly stand a watching human. In ascertaining that there was no other soul out that night but him and Charlotte, he raised his foot and set it on the window's ledge, his other following as he clambered up and stood atop it. With that, he leapt lithely out into the night, landing lightly on his feet to Charlotte's left.

Charlotte felt a pang of uneasiness as she saw Mr. Crepsley toss a last glance over his shoulder at her through her peripheral vision before he flitted away. She was now completely alone, lying there in the damp grass and waiting. To make things worse, all tiredness she had previously felt was now gone—she was wide awake.

For the first time since speaking to them about Steve at the hospital, she thought of her parents. Even though their working caused them to so rarely grace her presence, she still knew they loved her at the very least a bit. How would they react when they discovered she was… "dead"? _It won't even matter, _Charlotte realized. _After Mr. Crepsley comes back for me, I will never see them again. _Although this had certainly occurred to her before, now that she was fully isolated from all but her own thoughts it suddenly felt… painfully _real_.

A little less than an hour passed before a black SUV turned the bend into the neighborhood, lighting the streets around it with its bright headlights. As it drove past Charlotte's house, the lights moved across her lawn and shone for a short moment on her broken form, blinding her briefly before the car moved on. It did not go far, however—the driver slammed on his brakes, the back of the SUV lurching as it adjusted to the sudden stop, and put the car in reverse. The glaring light fell over Charlotte again, and with that, the car halted. A few seconds passed.

Leaving the vehicle idling, a suited man is his early thirties flung open the door of the car and leapt out of the driver's seat. Jumping hastily over the curb and onto the grass, he reached Charlotte and knelt on one knee beside her body, his brows furrowed as he regarded her apparently lifeless eyes. He pressed two fingers to her cold neck, feeling for her pulse. He detected none.

"Oh… Oh shit," he gasped in horror, reaching into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieving a flip phone which he fumbled to open with trembling fingers. After dialling three digits he pressed the mobile to his ear.

Charlotte wasn't even paying attention anymore. Something had broken deep inside of her; she had a gut feeling that this night would be a memory she would fight to forget for the rest of her life.

She tuned out for what seemed like a very long time. Her brain was no longer working properly—she barely acknowledged the team of paramedics lifting her onto a stretcher and into the back of an ambulance.

* * *

Time passed. It could have been a day, a month, she wasn't sure. She was experiencing everything in a haze. She was in a different place now; a different room. Someone had replaced her red t-shirt and jeans, clothing her in a sleeved gown black as the death they believed she had endured.

Sobbing. There was quiet sobbing, she heard it, to her right as she lay on her back in an open casket with her eyes closed. Still void of any feeling, Charlotte was uncertain as to where she now rested, but after recognizing the familiar voices of family and friends together and contorted in mournful agony she came to understand that she lay within a funeral home. She was left completely senseless but for her hearing, and before long she wished it gone as well. The grieving voices of her parents—her family—were too much to bear.

"Sorry…" a voice cracked, and with his voice so unfamiliarly consumed by grief Charlotte had difficulty recognizing the speaker as her purposeful father. When she did, though, she felt a strong pang of guilt.

"Sorry," her father repeated softly, "that I was never there for you, Charley…" Her heart wrenched at the nickname—her father hadn't called her that since she was a child. "If I could take it all back," he choked, "if I could spend every minute with you… I would do it in a heartbeat."

_But I'm still here… _Charlotte thought hopelessly, at long last feeling regret as she pled silently to her father.

She couldn't have just let Steve die, could she? He never loved her, yet she saved him; she abandoned her life and everyone who actually did care for her in order to protect his. She had pledged the rest of her existence to a vampire, who for all she knew may never return for her…

_I want to go back, _Charlotte begged to no one, confined to her own body that now felt like a prison. _I made the wrong choice. I'm not ready for this… for any of this._


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks again everyone for all of the reviews this fic has received so far. As always, I am hungry for more... so keep them coming! ^_^**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Cirque du Freak / The Saga of Darren Shan. Charlotte Harley is my own character, though, and belongs to me.**

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It was intolerably silent within the cushioned wooden box that was her coffin.

When she awoke, she couldn't at first remember where she was. The eerie sensation of having her eyes open but being unable to see only worsened her confusion. The impenetrable darkness overwhelmed her slowly returning senses; her fingertips throbbed and tingled only faintly at first. Gradually, though, the tingles advanced to the rest of her limbs, growing in strength until her whole body was aching terribly.

It was only then that she was able to recall her current situation; the uncomfortable experience was considerably similar to what she had endured after first downing the potion. Her funeral and burial had passed with agonizing slowness—by then her casket had been sealed, so she'd had nothing more to do than to torture her ears with the melancholy of the people she had abandoned as her coffin was lowered into the ground. Since listening had been unavoidable, she had instead wished for sleep. Sadly it had come later rather than sooner, and blessed rest had only invited her in after the long ceremony had reached its conclusion.

Her fingers twitched with their regaining ability to move, and she struggled to use them to feel around the box containing her. The musky scent of the wood filled her lungs as her rate of breathing increased, the gaps between each intake of breath no longer so drawn out. The exchange of air ceased to be near undetectable.

After a few more minutes the last of the potion's effects faded away. Charlotte lowered her exploring hands, resting them back at her sides with a deep sigh. She had nothing left to do but wait. _I've been doing a lot of that lately,_ she thought solemnly.

For the better part of a half hour she simply let her mind wander to various places. At one point it occurred to her that her air supply within the sealed coffin was limited, and her throat tightened with the fear that accompanied the realization. _If Mr. Crepsley doesn't come for me in time then I will die here,_ she fathomed, horrified at the possibility. _Or... he may decide not to come for me at all._

Biting her lip, Charlotte's brow furrowed with worry. Her fear was thankfully short-lived, for just then a familiar but muffled sound became audible. It took Charlotte a few seconds to place the noise but it soon registered to her as digging. Mr. Crepsley had come for her just as he had said he would.

It took only a few short minutes for the strong vampire to reach her. Then, she heard it-the loud clang as the shovel struck the wood of the coffin. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Shortly after that, the lid was ripped off the stifling coffin and cool air rushed in to meet her sore body.

Charlotte blinked, moistening her dry eyes as she took in the dark silhouette of Mr. Crepsley against the evening sky. "You came," she croaked, her voice hoarse from her not having used it in a while. She caught the grin on the vampire's face as her vision adjusted to the darkness.

"Of course," Mr. Crepsley replied, leaning over her and extending a hand. "I am your mentor now, Charlotte. I am responsible for you."

Charlotte gladly took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. She steadied herself, accepting his help when he offered to give her a boost out of the hole. He nimbly climbed out after her.

The vampire and his assistant stood on the damp grass of the cemetery regarding each other silently.

"My mentor," Charlotte repeated slowly, liking the sound of the word.

Mr. Crepsley nodded at her, bending down to retrieve the shovel from the ground. "The hole must be refilled before we leave," he told her, planting the shovel's metal head into the mound of dirt he had unearthed in digging up her grave.

"Okay," Charlotte replied, "but I'm just going to go and stretch my legs a little while you dig, if that's alright with you."

The vampire paused, a reluctant look in his eyes.

"I won't go anywhere," Charlotte assured him, feeling slightly hurt by his hesitation to trust her. "I promise."

"You may go for a short walk if you wish," said her mentor finally, "but do not leave the cemetery. I will be finished here very shortly."

"Understood," Charlotte smirked, jokingly raising her hand to salute him. He did not seem amused and merely resumed his digging. "I'll just be... somewhere close by."

"Call if you need me," he said absently.

"I will." Charlotte turned and wandered aimlessly away from him.

It was chilly out that night, and she hugged her aching arms close to her chest. She gazed intently at the names on the marble gravestones as she passed. They were names she had never heard of before, yet it pained her all the same to know what they now stood for-death. Death had erased the people they once represented, just like her fabricated death had wiped the slate clean for her own name.

* * *

Steve crouched behind a tombstone, staring after Charlotte as she passed him unknowingly. He could hear the sound of Mr. Crepsley restoring the grave, the shovel penetrating the dirt with each heave. The vampire was out of earshot, or, at least, that would be the case were he fully human. Steve knew very well that he wasn't, and was painfully aware that he was challenging death in the risk he was soon to take.

He was not supposed to be there. The hospital hadn't yet released him, but he had never much cared for doing what he was told. There was something that needed taking care of, and he wasn't willing to wait if waiting meant that the opportunity just might slip away from him.

Pulling a pocketknife from the back of his pants, Steve's fingers trembled only slightly. Tossing a quick glance to confirm that Mr. Crepsley's back was indeed still turned, he slowly stood, his eyes trained on the back of the vampire's assistant. Pure hatred clouded his judgment as he crept up behind her.

Steve released a small but fierce snarl as he pounced suddenly on Charlotte, hooking his arm around the unsuspecting girl's neck. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died in her throat when she felt the cool blade of Steve's knife against the vulnerable flesh of her neck.

* * *

_Steve, please, _Charlotte panicked silently, her heart working furiously against her fear. _Let me explain…_

As if reading her mind, Steve growled into her ear, "_You don't deserve to speak."_ His words were so rushed that Charlotte had difficulty separating them, but she didn't need to— his murderous tone of voice was explanation enough.

"Charlotte?" Mr. Crepsley's voice sliced through the air, and Charlotte felt Steve's body stiffen in alarm against her own terrified frame. Steve instantly threw them both to the ground behind the tall grave marker nearest them.

Despite her position, Charlotte felt a renewal of hope. Steve was afraid—afraid of the vampire she would serve for the rest of her existence._ I am your mentor now, Charlotte, _she recalled, Mr. Crepsley's deep voice echoing through her memory. _I am responsible for you. _She was his now…

"Charlotte?" the vampire repeated, louder this time as concern edged his voice.

_I'm here, _Charlotte pleaded in her head. _Don't let me die…_

Steve lowered the blade to her heart, pressing the tip roughly into the fabric of her shirt. His grip tightened on the knife's handle, and Charlotte knew he was debating whether to immediately take her life. She winced as the tip just pierced the surface of her skin, and the resulting realization that death was imminent caused her to completely disregard her common sense. She opened her mouth wide, took a sharp and deep breath of the brisk air, and released an ear-piercing scream.


	9. Chapter 9

**HERE IT IS... FINALLY, Chapter 9! Sorry for leaving you guys a cliffy and then making you wait so long! Please don't hate me?**

**Anyway, thanks for the bunch of reviews I got since Chapter 8! New record for this fic! Help me break this one! ^_^**

**ENJOY!**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Cirque du Freak / Darren Shan Saga. Only Charlotte Harley belongs to me.

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The next few moments passed by so unbelievably fast that Charlotte would never be completely certain as to what happened.

She felt everything before she saw it-the pressure over her heart suddenly no more, the back of her head smashing painfully against the gravestone. Black spots quickly appeared in her line vision following the collision. Steve had been ripped from behind her abruptly enough that she had teetered backward and hit the marble behind her.

Momentarily forgetting her fear and situation entirely, Charlotte pressed her forehead to her knees and rocked herself gently in pain. She lifted a trembling hand to the point of impact on her head. It felt wet, and still somewhat senseless she withdrew her hand to gaze blankly at the fresh crimson blood that covered it. The buzzing in her eyes overpowered the sounds of a brief struggle not far behind her, and she heard only a few muffled grunts as she staggered to her feet and turned around.

She stood patiently for a few short moments, waiting for her vision clear. Gradually, the shapes eased back into focus. Mr. Crepsley had Steve pinned to a tree, tightly gripping the horrified boy by the collar of his sweatshirt and suspending him a few feet above the ground. His lips were pulled back in a menacing snarl that made even Charlotte cringe back in fear. Steve's eyes were practically bulging out of his head in sheer terror, his hands clutching hopelessly at the vampire's red sleeves for support. Droplets of sweat had appeared on the boy's forehead and his chest remained still—he was holding his breath as he awaited the death he seemed convinced was sure to follow.

It didn't.

Charlotte watched, entranced, as her mentor's back relaxed and he set Steve carefully back down on the ground. Steve's collar remained locked in Mr. Crepsley's grip before, slowly, the vampire loosened his hold and both sets of arms dropped to their sides. The pair stood there for what seemed to Charlotte an eternity, Mr. Crepsley's gaze softening as he regarded the youth.

"You have no business here, boy," Mr. Crepsley spoke, his voice deep and his tone commanding. "I do not wish to cause you harm, but if you continue to stand in our way then I will do what I must. Leave… now."

Steve spent a few seconds registering what the vampire had said. When he understood, his eyes narrowed sharply in an indignant glare. He hadn't even been granted the time to speak. He opened his mouth to say something, swallowing first with some difficulty to moisten his dry throat. "I'll keep my promise," he growled, his eyes flicking briefly to Charlotte before returning to the vampire. "I'll hunt you down, and when I find you…" At this, he shook his head furiously. "_I. Will. Kill. You_. I'LL KILL YOU!"

Mr. Crepsley and Charlotte watched in calm silence as Steve Leonard turned his back on the two of them and ran, his shoes thudding hard on the moist cemetery ground with each stride.

Charlotte felt somewhat awkward standing there speechless and bleeding gently from the shallow gash to her head. As she watched the figure that was Steve become smaller and smaller as his distance from her grew, reality settled in. She was vulnerable. Steve could have easily killed her had Mr. Crepsley not come to her aid. It was not a particularly pleasant feeling and she bit her lip as she mulled it over. She was visibly shaken, and no longer staring after Steve she instead fixed her gaze on her shoes.

"Are you alright?"

Charlotte jumped just slightly, startled by the sudden break in silence, and raised her eyes from her shoes to meet Mr. Crepsley's. His gaze was warm and gentle, genuine concern subtly etched on his pale face.

"Just bumped my head a bit," she replied sullenly, "I'm fine though. I should have stayed a little closer." She managed a meek and unconvincing smile.

"Yes," Mr. Crepsley agreed, "but what has happened… has happened. Learn from the experience, but do not concern yourself any further than that. There is no sense in regretting what cannot be changed."

There was a pause, silence eagerly filling the void once again. It unnerved Charlotte. She desperately wanted to say something but the words were shy to leave her mouth. After some time, she at last managed to coax them out.

"Thank you," she said, so softly that she could barely hear herself speaking. Her somewhat pathetic expression of gratitude was heard nonetheless.

The vampire bowed deeply, looking up at her as he did so. "Your welcome," he answered politely, straightening and brushing off his suit.

A chilling breeze licked at her skin as Charlotte debated asking the obvious question that hung in the air between them. "What will we do now?" she inquired simply.

Mr. Crepsley considered this for a brief moment. "The night will soon pass into day," he observed, "which will not be a problem for you. I, however, will not fare so well in the sunlight."

Charlotte caught on quickly. "We should find a place to stay," she suggested, but seemed to change her mind as she remembered something. "What about the theatre where the Cirque was set up? That's working just fine for you up until now, hasn't it?"

"The Cirque took all of my belongings with it when it left," her mentor sighed, "including my coffin. It is regardless, as I do not suppose our situation would be any better had it been left behind. There would still be only one coffin and two of us, and I doubt you would be keen on sharing."

The girl nearly laughed out loud. She definitely did not want to be confined to another wooden casket for a long time, let alone crammed into one with Mr. Crepsley. It was quite a disturbing image.

The corners of Mr. Crepsley's mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile, undoubtedly picturing the same thing. He collected himself, then assured her, "Finding a place to rest for the day will not be difficult, but I think it best we first leave town." He glanced at the sky, which was still quite dark but would not likely be remaining so for much longer. "I highly doubt the boy will return, but nonetheless we should not linger and leave opportunity for any more inconveniences."

Charlotte quickly opened her mouth to argue, but just as quickly closed it again. What good reason did they have to stay? Her personal attachment to the small town was the only thing holding her back. It was, after all, her home—the sentimental place where she had lived out each one of her years to date.

Noticing her obvious reluctance, the vampire sighed. "I understand it must be difficult for you to leave the place that has been your home for so long, but you know very well that it must be done. There is no other way."

Her response was a stubborn shake of the head, much to his annoyance.

Mr. Crepsley's expression hardened as he stared directly into her eyes. "This is no longer your home. Your home is with me, and from this moment on, wherever I go, you will follow. Whatever I say, you will obey. Do you understand?"

"But can't we wait just a few—"

"We will not waste any more time here," he growled, frustrated. Turning his back to her, he bent at the knees. "We are leaving," he commanded, "now."

Grudgingly, Charlotte clambered onto his back, which she couldn't help but realize was becoming an easier task.

"Take one last look at your birthplace, Charlotte," Mr. Crepsley allowed, straightening and holding her legs to his sides.

She did. The pressure of uncertainty squeezed around her heart and she found herself wondering whether or not she was doing the right thing.

_Of course I'm not… But none of that matters anymore._

With that, Charlotte left the last bit of her old life behind her as the vampire and his assistant flitted off into the night.


End file.
